


Jumpstart

by WiltingRain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 10, Angel Castiel, Angel Mojo, Awesome Dean, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel is Chuck's favorite, Chuck is King, Crowley can be a dick, Graceless Castiel, Hannah just has a lot of feelings., Is Gabe really dead? Who knows!, Kidnapping, Kind of a S10 fix it? But also not really?, M/M, Metatron can suck a dick, Sam Winchester is a Little Shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 04:33:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4592982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WiltingRain/pseuds/WiltingRain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was simple, really. Find Anachel--The Angel of Grace-- and force her to tell them how to restore Cas's Grace. Except when it's not.</p><p>Warning, slow updates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jumpstart

**Author's Note:**

> This is a partial Season 10 fixit type thing. It takes place AFTER Dean is cured of Demonic illness/the darkness is already beginning to form blah blah just go with it, it's fanfiction guys seriously what do you want from me
> 
> WARNING: A lot of the angel hierarchy stuff is bullshit. what is true is  
> A) Other than Archangels, Seraphs are the most powerful  
> B) Zuriel and Anachel are actual angels  
> C) Zachariah and Uriel are dickbags
> 
> Another warning: This is way longer than I intended. Also, just to reiterate, slow updates.

Hannah finds herself at a stalemate.

 

“I’m telling you darling,” Metatron drawls, grinning slowly at her. “Quid pro quo. You let me out of this dump, and I’ll give you what’s left of Castiel’s Grace.”

 

“I offered you--”

 

“A _r_ _educed sentence_ means nothing in here, sweetheart.” His vessel flashes teeth. “It’s not all bad...I’ll just mosey my way to another galaxy, you and the doves never have to see me again.” _Not._

 

Hannah frowns, her vessel still accommodating to the push and pull of muscles. She knows Metatron doesn’t plan on leaving them alone. He had always enjoyed razing the cities of old a little too much for her liking, His command or no. She (when did she begin referring to herself as a she?) finds staring at Metatron any longer less than pleasant, so she stares behind him, at the dull and peeling walls of the cell.

 

“We both know that’s not true, brother.” She pauses, turning her back to him. “I thought we could help each other. It appears I thought wrong.”

 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, where the soul of the vessel she overtook is clinging on to the tailend of a comet, she thinks she hears a wish that the click of her heels is the last thing Metatron ever hears.

 

\-------

 

Someone is following her away from the cells in the depths of the New Heaven. She doesn’t sense malice though, so she continues on her way, intending to ignore her stalker until she gets to the Hive. She gets as far as fourteen steps will take her before a voice calls out.

 

“Hannah?”

 

It is not one she recognizes, but she turns anyway. The vessel is young, but the Grace inside seems older than she’s ever seen. It swirls and dips, more white than blue, a sign that he was among the first in creation after the Archangels. His vessel has hair longer than she thought humans deemed fit for men in this century, but she makes no comment, his eyes opal and piercing, yet soft and yearning.

 

“I am sorry brother, for I do not know your name.” Hannah says, taking slow steps toward the elder angel.

 

"I have been around far longer than you. It causes me no surprise you wouldn't recognize me." He smiled kindly, closing the lengths between them. "I am Zuriel, an--"

 

"--gel of Harmony." Hannah breathed, her vessel's eyes unconsciously going wide. “You...you haven’t been seen in Heaven in millennia!”

 

Despite being millions of years old, Zuriel managed to look sheepish as he nodded. “Indeed. Most of my work is to be done on Earth, as you know. Angels were not supposed to be in need of my services.”

 

“So it was you who helped restore order to Heaven’s walls?” The scenery shifted, looking something similar to one of Earth’s public gardens. Zuriel sat on the newly materialized benches, motioning for his sister to do the same.

 

“In a way, yes. I bring a sense of pure peace and tranquility. I have spent much of my recent efforts quelling conflict where I found it up here.” How Hannah didn’t notice before, she couldn’t say. But now that she truly took in her brother, even the creases by his vessel’s eyes radiated a sense of calm and inner peace. “It is difficult to make trips between here and Earth. Even as it is now, I am running out of time.”

 

“Brother?”

 

He laughed softly, giving Hannah a small, happy smile. “Worry not. I cannot perish as easily as my warrior brethren. I meant that there is conflict I must attend to. But I stopped you for a reason, Hannah. You seek peace for our brother Castiel, do you not?”

 

Mildly surprised, Hannah forced her vessel to nod, Grace already attributing something similar to the human emotion of ‘sorrow’ that her brother would soon be leaving. “His Grace is fading too quickly. He has borrowed Grace, courtesy of the demon Crowley, but..”  
  
“There is an expiration date, yes.” Zuriel’s previously joyful smile faded into something closer to sympathetic. “That is why I am here. There is an angel who can help. Who can most likely restore Castiel’s Grace to it’s former power.”

 

“Who--”

 

“Patience sister, I am running far too low on time.” He angled his body further toward Hannah, eyes searching hers in apology for his interruption. “This angel is even older than I, and is said to be from which Father drew our Grace from. She goes by the name Anachel, and she is known to all as the Angel of Grace. While the humans take the word Grace in a new light, for us it remains quite the same. If anyone were to know how to repair Castiel, it will be her.”

 

“I have never...I have never heard of her. Where would she be found?” Hannah felt something tugging in the belly of her vessel, and she realized in the back of her thoughts that it felt something like hope.

 

“As I said, she is far too old for any of the soldiers and cherubs to know her face. As far as finding her, look for the sign of _Him_. Miracles, acts of Mercy and Kindness in multitude. She could be anywhere on Earth, as her job is as constant as mine. But do not give up hope, Hannah. Our Father rewards those pure in heart and thought.” Zuriel flashed a toothy smile, joy mixing in with the waves of calm.

 

“Thank you, Zuriel.” Hannah let a smile of her own grace her vessel’s lips, hope building in the pit of her stomach.

 

“Why of course, sister. Only doing His work.” Her brother winked, something she thinks he must have picked up from all those years on Earth, and as quickly as he had come, he was gone. Hannah turned and found herself back where he had first found her, just outside the prison walls. This time when she smiled, she thought of the happiness as her own.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

She finds Castiel in a long black car with the Winchester she knows as Dean. Her brother is half asleep and under the worried eyes of the hunter. She watches them rumble down the California highway for another mile before stretching her wings. When she pops in the back seat, it takes a minute before Dean notices, swerving a bit and cursing when he does, and Castiel waking jumpily from his half-slumber.

 

" _Dammit!_ "

 

“Dean? What is the matter?”

 

“Cas man, you gotta tell your angel buddies to give a man a warning!” He huffed, eyes narrowing in on Hannah in the rear view mirror. “Damn angels.”

 

Castiel tilted his chin toward the back, giving his sister a soft, if not forced, smile. He was not in good shape. “Hannah.” He paused, as if considering her existence. “I assume you’ve come with news of more rouges?”

 

She gave a smile of her own, looser and sated. “No, Castiel. I come bearing news of your Grace.”

 

Her brother sat up in his seat at that, turning to face her. His earlier facade melted into concern and _fear,_ eyebrows drawing near the center of his forehead. “You did not release Metatron, have you?” Something fierce was seeping in those words, so much so that it stung her to her core. She wished Zuriel were there to calm her ailing brother.

 

“No. You wished it not. I wouldn’t actively betray your trust Castiel.”

 

“Yeah?” Dean snorted. “You didn’t seem to have trouble with it before.” And--oh. That was a new feeling, a new human emotion. It was mixing with the nausea--Dean had taken a rough turn--and  Hannah was still trying to name it when Castiel shot his companion a glare, speaking up on her behalf.

 

“Dean, those were different times. We were all deceived by Metatrons words.”

 

The hunter still looked uneasy, but Castiel’s words seemed to have some calming effect in them, because his previously coiled shoulders seemed to melt into loose limbs and tendons. Castiel had always been one of the more sensible of her brothers. Hannah gave her brother a grateful look, her own uneasy smile catching. What he said was true, after all. She had only done what she believed was best, given her loyalty to whom she thought could fix what their seemingly absent Father had wrought.

 

“I...I visited him today, yes, but he would not listen to reason. Instead, I ran into a brother no-one has seen in millennia. Castiel, you are older than I, do you remember Zuriel?”

 

Cas’ breath caught, already looking more awake than minutes ago. Dean had been fiddling with the radio, but he paused, watching the siblings’ exchange.

 

“I..I have never met him, but I have heard tales of his works. His ah..” The angel seemed to be sporting a light dusting of pink across his cheeks, looking outward toward the window. “His love of humanity may have inspired my own. Many seem to have forgotten him, though.”

 

“This.... _Zuriel_. How much older you guys talking? I thought all angels were created at the same time?” Dean threw in nonchalantly, turning his attention back to the radio.

 

“Not exactly,” Hannah began, shifting in her seat. Driving was getting tiresome, and the speeds at which Dean drove made her nauseous. “Our Father created the Archangels first, of course. Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and um, Lucifer.” The hunter wrinkled his nose in distaste at the mention of the last name, but said nothing as she continued. “Then, he created the Powers.”

 

At that, Castiel cut in. “The Powers are as elusive as our Father, it seems. Few have seen them, but we know they are there. There are as tied to Grace as the rest of us.”

 

“Right. They included a subdivision of angels you call Virtues. Included were such as Zuriel the Angel of Harmony and Absolute Peace.”

 

Dean snorted. “Since when is Peace a virtue?” He had stopped with the radio, leaving it on a Foreigner hit from the 80s.

 

“Dean, The Virtues and the virtues of humanity vary vastly. One of the things Heaven used to pride itself on was peace. Zuriel has spent almost all of his existence on Earth, calming discord where he could.”

 

Dean said nothing, but Castiel could tell that he was giving him an unreadable look, boring into the back of his head.

 

“Indeed. After that came a lot of the warrior types of angels. Seraph and Thrones among them, such as Castiel.”

 

“So Cas is _super_ old then, huh?” A teasing grin rested in place of the unsure, Dean slowly beginning to relax again. He still didn’t completely trust Hannah, but she was trying to help.

 

Hannah gives him an odd grin from the mirror, teeth barely poking out. “Yes. Some say he has been favored by God because he is the eldest and wisest of the Seraphs. His name _does_ mean--”

 

“ _Hannah_.” The elder angel growled, warning clear as day. “That is unimportant.”

 

“Of course, Castiel.” She was still smiling, however, more of her opening to human emotion. Somewhere along the way, she no longer thought of this body as a vessel, instead embracing it as a part of herself. Of course, she still knew that Caroline was still inside, but how could she not? Hannah was learning such wonderful feelings through this body, and if she could feel, surely this body had become like an extension of herself?

 

“If he’s the oldest, how come he was bossed around? Those dickbags Zachariah and Uriel, what about them?”

 

“They were installed as a...failsafe.” Castiel admitted. “While they are not as powerful, angels such as Thrones are far more able in commanding and multitasking. They were planted in Garrisons to help organize and prevent the Archangels from being stretched thin. Should an Archangel not have the ability to carry on the Garrison, the Thrones would step in and help keep everything in order.”

 

“Like an internal affairs thing?” Dean grunted, eyes twitching in thought. “Hey Cas, you were in Gabriel’s garrison, right? So when he dropped off the face of the Earth..”

 

“Yes, Dean. The likes of Zachariah and Uriel took over.” Castiel sighed, shaking his head. “Heaven used to be a much simpler place. That is no longer the case.” The angel was already beginning to fall asleep, gaining worried looks from both Dean and Hannah. They drove for less than ten minutes in quiet, the both of them glancing at Cas as if he were to implode. In the following span of silence, Castiel seemed to have fallen asleep, and Dean made his move.

 

“Alright Hannah,” He kept his voice low, fearing to wake Cas. “Look I don’t particularly like what you did to Cas, but if there’s any chance of getting his Grace back...” The rest went unspoken, sharing a meaningful, if not angry, glance in the rear-view mirror.

 

“Understood. Once he is restored you will never have to see me again.” Hannah agreed.

 

“Glad we could come to an agreement.” He grunted, eyes once again wandering to Castiel’s sleeping form. It was only another moment or two when she spoke again.

 

“You...care about him a great deal, don’t you Dean Winchester?”

 

He didn’t answer, but by the tint of his cheeks, she knew she was right.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

It was dawn by the time they had stopped driving. Dean was barely hanging onto the land of the living when he checked into the motel, ignoring the look the check-in clerk gave him when he asked for a single bed. He wasn’t below sharing a bed with Cas--it saved money anyway--and Hannah didn’t need sleep. Cas was carried in by Hannah, Dean carrying three duffles--one for him, one for Cas, and one for the weapons. If Hannah found them curled around each other in the morning, she didn’t say anything about it-- it was a small bed after all.

 

Dean had already showered and was in the process of putting on a shirt when Castiel finally awoke. He still looked deathly, but the fact that he awoke without assistance was enough for Dean.

 

“Hey Cas.” He grinned down at the curled form of his friend, who was still rubbing at his eyes.

 

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel grinned sleepily--and immediately regretted it. By the time the coughing subsided, both Dean and Hannah surrounded him, the former resting a cautious hand on his back.

 

“Cas..” His voice was no more than a whisper, brows drawing further together. “It’s getting worse Cas, why didn’t you tell me?” He removed his hand like whiplash, moving to stand instead on the opposite wall. Instantly, the atmosphere was tense, like a snake coiled to strike. Dean usually wasn’t like this. Chick-flick moments were a no-go for Dean. He just wasn’t built for them. But seeing Cas like this... _Dammit._ Sammy.... _fuck_. Sammy was strong. He was used to pain and suffering and rejection and defeat, but Cas? Strong, _beautiful_ , badass Cas? Cas wasn’t used to this. He was only human for a short time last year, even then he never had to suffer like this. Dying, borrowed Grace leaking like a damned faucet. For Cas...seeing him like this was something Dean wouldn’t wish on Satan himself. (Well, maybe Satan. Definitely Metatron, that rat bastard.)

 

“It is of no import, Dean. We need to get to Sam. You can worry about me la--”

 

“ _Dammit_ , Cas! Don’t do that!” Dean didn’t even think, His fist burying itself in the plaster, back still turned. _Dammit_ , he definitely broke a knuckle or two. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to say things like that Cas, because you’re dying, and you won’t....” A laugh escaped his mouth, hard and angry at the memories whispering in his ears. “You’re just like me, you know. You don’t think you deserve to be saved.”

 

“Dean....I have made peace with my fate.” _Lie_ “Sam still has many years to come.”

 

“Sam’s a big boy, Cas. He can take care of himself until we get you better.” Dean pulled his hand from where it lay bleeding in the wall, inhaling deeply once before turning back around. He cradled his hand, but payed it no attention as he stared at Cas, eyes sad and angry and _tired_. Hannah thinks she finally realizes what the humans meant when they referred to ‘cutting the tension with a knife’.

 

“Dean... it may not be my place to speak, but I believe you would know better that once Castiel sets his mind to something, he rarely ever turns back.” Hannah finally spoke, sitting herself next to her ailing brother. Castiel nodded his thanks, but Dean just looked angry. He attempted to flex his hand, anger mixing in with pain and exhaustion.

 

“Fine. _Fine_ , Cas, you’re getting your way. But if you think for one minute I’m going to let you die, you’re wrong. You’re damn wrong.” The hunter returned to the bathroom, the sounds of water running. Castiel sagged into his sister, cold and _sadsadsad._

 

“For what it’s worth, Castiel, you were right. Dean Winchester certainly is one of the good ones.” She smiled in earnest down at him, that feeling of _sorrow_  tugging at her once again when she spotted the bags underneath his eyes. How was he so strong, her brother? Castiel, protector, selfless, kind. Angels...She knows angels are not meant to be deserving of anything, but she thinks...if anyone should be deserving of a happy ending, it should be Castiel. Castiel who gave his everything in whatever he did. Her brother who would give anything to make it all right. Her brother who would put the safety of a human before himself and the ranks of Heaven. Hannah thinks she knows why their Father favored Castiel.

 

He quirked the corner of his mouth upward in turn, nodding once. “I know he is worried for me, but he can live without me. His brother...His brother he cannot.”   
  
“Castiel, you can’t mean that.” _No._ She thinks, emotions suddenly swamping over her. _No, brother, don’t let his words be true. You are worth it, Castiel, you are worth all the pain and suffering and hopelessness--_

 

“Of course I can, Hannah.” _And sorrow and--_ “I have no doubt it would be painful for him, but he can move on without me. Without Sam...Without Sam, he is a changed man, sister, and I did not like the man he had become in the absence of his brother. Dean has given his life ten-fold for Sam and I have no doubts he would do it again.”

 

_No._

 

“Like he wouldn’t for you?!” There it was again, _anger and sorrow_ , washed into a murky grey in the pit of her stomach as she raised her voice, the tension that had dissipated earlier back in full swing, swirling like a storm. “Castiel, I may be slow on the uptake of humanity, but I can see the way he looks at you. You mean a great deal to him, and if you don’t think he wouldn’t scour everywhere, everywhere, from the plains of Heaven to the depths of Hell? Then you’re a _fool_.”

 

Silence. All at once, the _angersorrowanger_ had faded, draining out of her body. Her rigid shoulders loosened, sliding off the bed onto her knees. “Castiel. _Brother_.” _You are worth it._ She doesn’t say. _You are worth the suffering._ She thinks. And-- _oh_. Another one. Another emotion she isn’t sure what to call. She thinks it feels like _love_. Angels were supposed to feel love, right? That is what they were made of, isn’t it? Grace and Love?

 

Hannah helps him stand then, searching his face for something, _anything_ that says he knows. That he knows he is worth saving. All she sees is _sorrow_. “I will meet you in the car.” Her voice back down to barely above a whisper, she turned her back and silently padded toward the bathroom, listening carefully as the motel door clicked shut before entering.

 

Dean turned his neck toward her as she entered, turning the water off and leaning his back against the sink. “What, you here to give me a lecture about getting my priorities straight?”

 

Now that she had expelled her anger on Castiel, all she could feel was defeat. She shook her head at him, stepping closer. “No. I...I thought you may want some help with your hand.” Hannah jerked her chin--a move that felt more Caroline than Hannah-- toward his right hand, badly bruised and still a little bloody. The hunter looked a little surprised at first, but nodded his consent, holding his hand tentatively toward her.

  
When it was over, light fading, he exited the bathroom with murmured gratitude, grabbing the duffels and heading toward the car.   
  
Hannah isn’t sure, smile creeping onto the corners of her face, but maybe, just maybe, Dean is starting to warm up to her.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh Chuck is it over yet?  
> Well, if you managed to find this under the thousands of Destiel fics, way to go!  
> Enjoying it so far?  
> Leave a comment!  
> Leave a Kudos!  
> Become the essence of Oprah and give ALL your favorite stories Kudos!  
> x.R


End file.
